At What Cost?
by Optimistically-Hopeless
Summary: America is awoken to horrible news that will change both his and Arthur's lives forever. Oneshot; USUK.


This is so sad… I've been having writer's block for months, and I get sudden inspiration for _this_. For my regular readers, I'm sorry! I am working on new chapters, but I just had to get this one down while I could! I hope you understand.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this little story! Thank you! :D

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Arthur had been relaxing in the sitting room, working on the needle work in his lap, when he heard it. So far, this morning had been fairly quiet. Alfred slept in as usual, and Arthur woke up much earlier than him, also very much like usual. He had silently gotten out of bed to come downstairs, now sitting with a steaming cup of tea and his thread work. All had been calm and peaceful.

But the serene silence was ended by a sudden crash from upstairs.

At the abrupt noise, Arthur raised his head, staring at the ceiling as if he stared for long enough, he'd be able to understand what had just happened above him. "Alfred?" he called, remaining seated. He didn't want to run upstairs in an emotional fit if Alfred had just been an idiot and fallen out of bed. It wouldn't have been the first time that such a thing had happened.

However, silence was his answer, putting him on edge. Usually, Alfred would have called back embarrassedly, saying something around the lines of _"I meant to do that! Haha!"_ But the lack of such an answer was unusual for the boisterous American. "Alfred?" he tried once again, hoping that the American just hadn't heard him the first time.

For a second time, he was only answered with silence. Now growing nervous, he stood up from the couch, cautiously walking towards the staircase. "Alfred, are you alright?" For a moment, he once again couldn't hear anything in response. But as he edged closer to the stairs, noises finally became audible. But the new sounds did nothing to calm him.

He could hear Alfred crying.

A lump forming in his throat, Arthur slowly ascended up the stairs. His stomach turned in knots, his mind unable to think of a situation that could have caused his Alfred to be in such a state as to start crying. As he came closer and closer to their bedroom, he became more and more concerned. The silent whimpers he had heard from downstairs were now becoming heaving sobs. The American never cried like this. Not unless there was something horrifically wrong. Arthur became dazed as he tried to imagine what could have done this to his Alfred.

Almost unaware of his limbs any longer from his panic, Arthur continued past the last step and down the hall, forcing himself to remain calm. He took a deep breath as he neared the door, Alfred's crying only growing in volume. "Alfred?" he whispered, barely able to keep his voice from cracking in worry. He finally rounded the doorway and peered into the room.

Inside, Alfred was on the floor next to their bed, some of the sheets around him, seeming to have been pulled down with him when he fell. His knees were drawn up to his heaving chest, his arms shaking as they kept them in place. Then, making pain shoot through his heart, Arthur saw tears trailing down his face in thick streams. Just the sight of them made him lose track of what his legs were doing as he rushed towards him, falling to his knees before him.

"Alfred!" Unable to stop himself, he began to frantically push Alfred's hair from his face, wiping his tears away as he did so. "Alfred, what's wrong? What happened?"

Seeming to finally notice Arthur's presence, Alfred looked up at him, his face only becoming sadder. He sullenly pressed his face against his knees and continued to cry.

"Alfred," Arthur pleaded, petting his head softly. "Love, please. What's wrong? Tell me what happened."

Giving a large sniffle, Alfred raised his head, moving a hand from his legs to wipe away some of his tears. "I-it's terrible, Artie," he choked, his voice quivering through sobs. "Everything… everything's ruined. I don't know w-what to do!"

Arthur continued to softly stroke his hair, his stomach churning at his words. "Tell me," he urged. "Please."

His breaths quivering, Alfred took a few deep ones as he tried to calm himself. "Th-there are these people. And they were really unhappy. They didn't like how they were being treated. S-so they stood up. They stood up and fought back."

Arthur nodded slowly, pulling his hands back now that he was able to keep them still in his lap as he listened to the explanation. "What happened?" he asked, almost too scared to hear the answer. "Did… did they lose?"

Alfred trembled slightly, a small sob ripping from his throat. "N-no!" he cried, more tears pouring down his face. "Th-they won! It's terrible!"

At this, Arthur was quite confused. "Terrible?" Arthur questioned. "How come? They won against their suppressors. Isn't that something you stand for?"

"Not for this!" Alfred bawled, roughly wiping tears from his eyes. "Never for something like this! We lost so much because of this! We lost such a treasure! The people lost it! There are going to be kids who never experience it!" At this, he broke down once again, burying his face against his knees as he began to sob harder than before.

Arthur was once again panicked. "What did you lose?" he demanded, feeling sick with worry. "Did you lose the republic? Do you no longer have a democracy?"

"N-no!" Alfred sobbed, his words muffled behind his legs. "It's w-worse!"

"Alfred, just tell me!" Arthur begged, barely able to hold himself together. He couldn't imagine what could be worse than America losing democracy. Whatever it had to be, it had to be catastrophic.

For a few moments, Alfred was unable to respond, his sobs keeping him from doing so. Arthur was about to prod him further when Alfred finally responded with a wail:

"_Twinkies!"_

Alfred continued to sob, but Arthur went dead silent. He sat there, not speaking, not moving, not doing anything. He remained like this for over a minute, just staring blankly ahead. However, he seemed to gain his senses back as he stared down at Alfred.

"You have got to be bloody joking."

"N-no," Alfred sobbed back. "I just found out. I don't know what I'm—"

"You made me have a bleeding panic attack and think that the love of my life was dying because of bloody _Twinkies_?"

At this, Alfred again looked up, a curious look on his face. "But Artie," he whimpered, "the world just lost Twinkies. This is serious, dude."

Arthur just glared at him. "I've never even liked Twinkies," he growled.

At these words, Alfred seemed to nearly faint from shock. "_What?!"_ he cried, sitting up properly for the first time that morning. "What do you mean?! You… you don't…" He seemed unable to speak the next words, his throat making sad squeaks as he tried to. "…Don't… like… Twinkies?"

"No," Arthur answered venomously. "They're disgusting."

"Oh dear _God_," Alfred gasped, disbelievingly. "How can I even _love_ you?!"

"Hey! What the hell is that supposed to mean, damn wanker!"

"But what about all the other Hostess cakes?" Alfred demanded, his hands moving frantically through the air as if to strengthen his question. "They're all dying too!"

Arthur continued to glare at him, almost unable to keep himself from slapping him at this point. "What other bloody Hostess cakes?"

"All of them!" Alfred said loudly. "Twinkies, Ding Dongs, their cupcakes, Wonderbread—"

"Wait, wait," Arthur interjected sharply, his eyes going wide. "Which cupcakes are those?"

Alfred seemed surprised by the question, but quickly answered. "They're the chocolate ones with the chocolate icing and creamy center and the loopy white icing on top!"

Arthur once again went utterly silent, staring straight ahead. Alfred watched him curiously, waiting for a reaction to his answer. Suddenly, Arthur sniffled as tears also came to his eyes. "They… they're getting rid of those?"

Solemnly, Alfred nodded. The two remained silent, Arthur staring down at the floor. Then, making Alfred jump, Arthur began crying. "Whoa, dude," he said in surprise, putting his hands up in the air, not knowing what to do with them. "What's wrong?"

"I love those bloody cupcakes!" Arthur whimpered, stubbornly wiping tears from his eyes. "Goddammit! How could they do something like this?"

"I don't know," Alfred answered quietly, taking ahold of Arthur's hands. "They wanted freedom from a corporation. But at what cost?" He gave a sigh, and pulled Arthur into a hug, gently pressing the Brit's face into his shoulder. "At what cost?"

The two sat there, mourning over their lost cakes. They both adored freedom and democracy, but it was at moments like these that they wondered whether or not it was truly worth it.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please review! :D


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